Joseph changed within three days. At our wedding, he had been the perfect groom—charming, passionate, whispering sweet promises as if I were the only woman in his world. But by the third day, I was nothing to him.
He loathed me. Not just with silent disdain, but with open hostility, as if my mere presence in his life was an insult.
Fine by me. The less he touched me, the better.
I didn't need love, didn't need affection. I didn't even need him to acknowledge me. All I had to do was play deaf and dumb, endure until the last day and the entire Gray fortune would become my personal ATM.
This morning was like any other. The eggs in the kitchen were boiled. I peeled them carefully, making sure to remove every last bit of shell before slicing them into his favorite sandwich. A pinch of black pepper—no more, no less—just the way he liked it.
As I was assembling his breakfast, Joseph came downstairs, lazily brushing his teeth. His hair was slightly tousled, his shirt wrinkled—clear signs that he had only just rolled out of bed.
His gaze landed on me, full of irritation. "You're worse than a dog," he muttered through the foam of his toothpaste. "I wouldn't even hit a dog this hard."
I smiled. "A dog bites. I don't."
He sneered, spat his toothpaste straight into the kitchen sink, wiped his mouth with a towel and turned to look at me, his expression dripping with contempt. "Look at yourself. Who would believe you're Mrs. Gray?"
Before I could respond, the soft shuffle of footsteps echoed from the stairs. A woman in my silk nightgown walked down—Cindy Gardner. Joseph's childhood sweetheart.
She had moved in during the second week of our marriage, claiming she was "helping to take care of him." She had made herself comfortable in my house, wore my most expensive clothes, used my personal skincare products and walked in and out of the master bedroom as if she owned it.
Cindy descended gracefully, adjusting the silk robe as she smiled at me, a lazy, smug curve to her lips. "Elisa, I was up with your husband all night. It was exhausting," she sighed, stretching her arms as if to emphasize just how much energy she had spent. "Could we take turns next time?"
I met her gaze without flinching. "Thank you, Cindy. If you're tired, maybe Joseph can bring in a few more karaoke girls to liven things up."
For the briefest second, something flickered in her eyes—anger, mockery, or something else—but she quickly masked it with a smirk, stepping toward Joseph and running her fingers along his arm.
I calmly turned back to breakfast, finishing my work with practiced efficiency. I placed his vitamins and stomach pills in the pillbox, arranging them in the correct order before handing them to him.
He took them with obvious disgust. "Why don't you just take the pills yourself?" he muttered. "Save me the headache of seeing you."
I lowered my gaze, my voice soft. "If I take them, I might die. You're not dead yet—I still need to stay alive."
The room fell silent. The maids, who had been stifling their giggles, suddenly avoided my eyes. None of them dared to speak.
This was me—Elisa. Mrs. Gray on paper. The family's full-time maid in reality.
***
At exactly seven in the evening, Joseph sent a text: [I'm bringing a friend home tonight.]
I put my phone down and got to work. I changed the diffuser in his study to lavender essential oil—he was prone to headaches after sleeping. Then, I switched out the guest room sheets for freshly washed ones and sprayed them lightly with his favorite cologne.
After that, I retrieved the red wine he had ordered last week, uncorked it and let it breathe. By the time the doorbell rang, I had just finished lighting the candles.
When I opened the door, Joseph stood there and beside him was another woman—one I hadn't seen before. A seductive beauty, dressed elegantly, her lips painted a striking red.
I smiled at her warmly. "Would you like a cocktail or red wine?"
The woman blinked, momentarily startled. Joseph brushed past me, his tone cold. "Drop the act. Get lost and stay out of my sight."
I stepped back immediately, retreating to stand by the staircase, my hands clasped loosely in front of me. I watched as they walked past, disappearing into the bedroom. The door clicked shut. I smiled, as if nothing had happened.
Behind me, a maid hesitated before whispering, "Madam... how... how can you stand this?"
I gently touched the bandage on my collarbone, pressing lightly. "And why not?" I replied calmly.
Only seventeen days left. I just needed to act for seventeen more days. Joseph would die and I would be reborn. So, every performance—I had to make it perfect.
At 1 AM, a furious argument broke out upstairs. The shouting grew louder, spilling down the staircase until it echoed through the house.
"If you love her that much, then stop bothering me, Joseph!" Cindy's voice was sharp, angry.
Joseph's response came just as heated. "What are you whining about? Why should I get rid of Elisa?"
"Why?" she shrieked. "She's not even your real wife!"
There was a pause. Then, Joseph's voice, colder than ever. "She is on paper. You, on the other hand, are not."
Cindy stormed out of the study in fury, wrapped in my cashmere shawl. Her high heels clicked against the floor, each stomp ringing through the hallway like gunshots, as if she wanted to poke a hole in the floor.
